I can remember the night Alex lost her virginity better than the night I lost my own. This is pretty par for the course when it comes to my sister. Everything she does is naturally more memorable than anything I could ever do. Even sex.
I can still hear the heavy breathing through my bedroom wall and the gentle creaking of my sister’s bed that increased in speed and intensity as Grayson moved from tentative to eager to climactic. And, despite the fact that I knew Alex had never done it before, I couldn’t help but remark how confident she sounded. How perfectly timed her moans and gasps and sharp inhales were. She sounded almost identical to the girls we used to watch on the cable channels that my parents kept locked with the easiest, most hackable password ever: “Password.”
I can even remember the tender affections they shared before, during and after. His deep voice, with a faded Southern accent, slipping through the air like a lullaby. Although I couldn’t make out every word, the inflections and sweet airiness of the whispers were enough to infer.
If she was in any pain, she hid it well. But knowing Alex, her body was most likely just built for sex. She was probably born without a hymen. Inherently ready and able to please a man the moment she turned sixteen.
My first time, on the other hand, was messy and painful and clumsy. And the boy I finally decided to give it up to at age eighteen finished less than two minutes after we started and was never heard from again.
And the whole time, all I could think about was Grayson. I pictured him moving on top of me. I pictured his bare chest rubbing against the lace bra that my so-called “partner” never even bothered to take off. I pictured his hand cupping and caressing my face as he came. His hot breath in my ear telling me how amazing it felt to be inside me. How he wanted to stay there forever.
I never envied my sister more than during those two awkward minutes. I couldn’t help but think how magical it must have been for her. How lucky she was to be doing it with someone like Grayson Walker. Someone who cared about her. Not some drunk frat boy she met at a spring break party who smelled like a carnival.
But by then, I had already started to come to terms with the fact that everything was more magical for Alex. That’s just the way it was. She was superior to me from the very beginning. I never really stood a chance. While she was born happy and healthy at eight pounds and two ounces, I was born three years later, premature, sickly and stuffed in an incubator for the first three weeks of my life. While Alex excelled at school and sports and just life in general, I’ve never really had a serious boyfriend, and barely managed to pull a C average all through high school. While Alex is living the glamorous life in New York City as the highest-grossing account executive her advertising firm has ever seen, I now live at home, with an unfinished art degree, a dozen sketchbooks full of random drawings and story ideas that I swear I’ll turn into a graphic novel one day, and a father and a restaurant who are both still mourning the mother who left us.
But now suddenly Grayson Walker is here again. Sitting next to my sister at the table she reserved at the poshest restaurant in town. Staring lovingly at her while she talks.
His delicious scent lingers in the air. His deep, slightly accented voice echoes in my ears. His eyes repeatedly flicker to me and then away again as Alex relays the story of how they found each other in the city. How they reconnected during a long, romantic dinner, how they worked out all their past “issues,” and how happy they are now.
“And what made you decide to move from Washington, D.C. to New York?” my father asks, relishing the story as though it were a made-for-TV movie.”
“He got promoted,” Alex answers for him, pride overflowing in her voice. “They clearly sees his potential. He’s on his way to running that company one day.”
Dad beams, über-impressed. “Wow. An investment banker and an ad executive? You two really are the New York power couple, aren’t you?”
I can tell from Alex’s ear-to-ear grin that this is exactly what she wanted to hear. “That’s the plan, anyway. Right, baby?”
Grayson nods, taking a bite of his bread.
“I told you that Business degree would pay off one day, didn’t I?” Alex strokes his arm.
“That you did,” he replies between chews.
I reach for the bottle of wine on the table. The earlier news of their glorious reunion completely sobered me up, washing away all my hard work from before.
Grayson notices and makes a move for the bottle, offering to pour it for me. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm as his fingers graze against mine. He gives me a quick wink as he pours, and I have to look away for fear of forgetting how to breathe correctly.
Calm the fuck down, I tell myself.
This is nothing new. Grayson was always flirty like that. Never in a torrid, I-wanna-rip-your-clothes-off-and-sprawl-you-across-this-table kind of way. But in a brotherly way.
I gulp greedily at my wine.
“How long are you staying?” I practically shout after I’ve come up for air. I hardly even noticed that I’ve interrupted Alex mid-sentence and she shoots me a vicious glare.
Grayson hides a smirk behind a sip of wine.
“Just until the end of Labor Day weekend.” Alex replies. “This time.”
“This time?” I repeat, doing little to hide the discontent in my tone.
“Well.” Alex dabs her mouth with the tip of her cloth napkin, “I was going to wait until dessert but I suppose now is as good a time as ever.”
My father visibly perks up. Alex glances briefly at Grayson who nods in return. “It looks like we might be making a few more trips into town in the following months.”
That sick feeling is instantly back in my gut, and something tells me I’m not going to like what’s coming next.
“Oh really?” Dad says, grinning at me as though I shared his enthusiasm.
Alex clears her throat. “Yes. We already have a few preliminary appointments lined up but—”
“What kind of appointments?” My father inserts a forkful of meat into his mouth.
“Well,” she continues, her face glowing, “we’d like to meet with a few wedding planners while we’re here.”
My fork drops with a clank against my plate. The room is suddenly spinning. And I can’t tell if it’s because of the wine or the monstrosity of what’s coming out of my sister’s mouth.
Wedding planner?
As in marriage?
As in till death do us part?
I think I must have blacked out for a few moments because when I come to, there’s a blindingly huge sparkling diamond on my sister’s finger (which I assume she must have been hiding in her purse until now). My father is shaking Grayson’s hand and giving him a manly pat pat pat on the back. And is that a bottle of champagne that has just appeared out of nowhere?
“You should have seen the first one he picked out,” my sister is yammering on about the ring. “It was...” She lets out a low whistle. “Well, it was pretty awful.” She turns and flashes Grayson a smile. “No offense, baby.”
I hold my head in my hands, attempting to keep the room in one place. But it’s no use. I feel like I’m on a carousel that just keeps getting faster and faster and faster.
“So, of course, as soon as I said yes, we went straight to the jewelry store to exchange it for something more...wearable.”
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. My sister can’t marry Grayson Walker. She just can’t. They were supposed to be finished! It was supposed to be over! And it was over! For four years. Who gets back together after four fucking years?
“Lia, are you all right?” I pick up my head to see Grayson’s liquid brown eyes stationed right in front of me. They’re narrowed in concern. And they’re doing that thing again where they search me. Where they penetrate me. Where they mine me for secrets. Secrets that I’ll never be able to reveal to anyone now that he’s going to be my...
Brother-in-law.
I feel the bile rising up in my stomach, stinging my throat. I launch out of my seat and dart toward the restroom. I don’t stop running until the door is bolted behind me, until I’m crouched over the toilet, vomiting up the bitterness of a desire that’s been rotting inside me for eight years.